Realistic Expectations
I gathered with my girlfriends recently to have our annual Christmas gathering. We eat a lot of food, exchange gifts (some tangible and some intangible), and generally catch up on life. We try to get together throughout the year but, when you think about it, this is our time of reflection of many days gone by.
When it was my time to share ‘what was new’, I said ‘not much, really’. This was met with plenty of objections. Consensus was that my life might be the most adventurous of the lot: I started a new relationship, bought a house, travelled to Africa, and won a national award. Not a bad letter to insert into the Christmas cards I didn’t send. Of course, here’s hoping that 2012 will be slightly more interesting [tongue inserted in cheek].
All 30-something-year-olds need to have a crisis or two. Mine came a week ago: unable to fall asleep, searching the darkness, then crying out into the empty echos in my house — I’m not perfect. That unwritten Christmas letter could certainly make it seem like I have it all together, that I’m successful and well-balanced and friendly and talented and, well, merely amazing. Except that I’m not. Sometimes I’m desperately insecure and unsure and floundering behind a facade.
I’m not sure if this has ever happened to you but sometimes, on occasion, I read a book that completely resonates to my core. Meandering through a local bookstore, I found ‘Grace for the good girl’ [E Freeman] tucked in behind some others on the shelf. After a cursory glance, I knew I needed to read the book. Although I’m 90% sure that there won’t be any miraculous answers or resolution of angst, it is sometimes simply nice to know that someone else has walked the same road.
From ‘Grace for the good girl‘, E Freeman: chapter 2, page 25:
The shape and intensity of our performance comes down to two things: expectations and definitions. I have the expectation of myself to be a good girl, a good Christian, a good wife, and a good mom. Not such bad things, until you understand my own personal, twisted definition of “good.” Good means I never mess up. Good means I weigh the perfect amount. Good means I can handle everything, I don’t look like a food, and I never lose my patience. Good means my husband will never be disappointed in me, my kids will always obey, and everyone basically likes me. Good mean I am enough. My goodness is all about me. Not only do I want to be a good girl, a good Christian, a good wife, and a good mom, I want to be those things in front of God and everyone. I want to be good and I want you to know it.
I know in my head that my definition of good is wrong, crazy even. Still, left to my own resources, that is how I operate. If I fail to live up to my own standard of good, I label myself a failure. I lack motivation. I become indifferent. I entertain anxiety. I snap at my children. I want to be alone. I dream of Hawaiian vacations. I wallow.
But then something happens to offer a bit of encouragement, and I find the strength to redouble my efforts at goodness. I clean the house and successfully avoid the Rocky Road ice cream. Someone gives me a compliment. The weather is nice and I get a spurt of energy. I feel empowered, and so I try again. Then, I fail again. I don’t like to fail and I certainly don’t want you to know I’ve failed. And I’m embarrassed at the predictable pattern of defeat that my life has become.
Hi Jen,
Thank you so much for your blog. I found it while trying to find out more about “Fynn,” author of Mister God, This is Anna. Your blog does for me what Fynn’s book did for both of us and what it sounds like Grace for the Good Girl is doing for you now. Please keep on keeping on! I think struggling with morality is a sign of life and wish that more people in power–especially political and economic leaders–would do the same. :)
Annah